


Samurai Jack'ed

by khaleesian



Category: Fast and the Furious (2001)
Genre: April Showers Challenge, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-04-04
Updated: 2011-04-04
Packaged: 2017-10-17 14:38:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,023
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/177917
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/khaleesian/pseuds/khaleesian
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Saturday night, meet Sunday morning</p>
            </blockquote>





	Samurai Jack'ed

…Someone hit the lights.  
We just love opening nights.  
Costumes, make-up, props, and sets...  
Song and dance, and hot duets.  
No Romeos or Juliets. It's comedy all the way.  
Time to laugh. So, let's begin.  
Notify your next of kin.  
Daffy Duck is starring in the Bugs and Daf... Make 'em laugh!  
The Bugs N' Daffy Show! Prepare to be blown away!"

Dom woke up because he was having difficulty breathing. The light filtering through the filthy Venetian blinds was yellow with dust. Dom raised his head an inch and discovered that he couldn’t breathe because his nose had been forcefully pressed into the rough cotton weave of the couch. His lower lip was numb where it had been folded and pressed into the cushion. It was like his body had been attempting to burrow into the sofa, to bury itself, which seemed logical as he had been sleeping dreamlessly, like a corpse. He tried to push himself up a little farther but it felt like someone was sitting on his back. He grunted and pushed harder, forcing himself up and knocking cushions to the floor. Pain wreathed the back of his head, but the dizziness distracted him as he got fully upright. The knowledge that he had done this to himself did not make him feel better in the least.

The vinegary smell of puke assailed him when he got upright. He squinted into the dim light and ran his hand clumsily over his face, feeling the pattern pressed into his nose and lip courtesy of his faceplant onto the cheap upholstery. He must look ridiculous. He was barefoot. His mouth felt like Death Valley. The memory of getting home, getting himself splayed across his couch was a huge scary void. If he stayed perfectly motionless, his stomach wouldn’t heave and his brain wouldn’t try to leak out through his ears. He settled back onto the couch and was promptly mesmerized by the television. Porky Pig. Foghorn Leghorn. Bugs Bunny. He found the constant brightly-colored mayhem soothing in an odd way.

“Why does Bugs dress in women’s clothing every other show?” he rasped to the air. Christ, his voice could peel paint off a wall right now. It was in such a low register, he’d bet he could communicate with whales.

In contrast, the voice that responded from a pile of cushions on the floor was perfectly even and uninflected. “Bugs has great self-esteem. Loads of self-confidence.”

Dom suppressed the urge to flinch… he was a fast learner. He turned his head very slowly and steadily and looked down at Brian from the corner of his eye…In the white light of the screen, Brian’s face was ghostly pale; the circles under his eyes deep and bruise purple. His eyes flashed a vivid blue up at Dom…even more vivid blue against the field of red. Brian’s eyes looked like someone had kicked sand in them and then rinsed it out with saltwater. Plus his hair looked like he’d styled it with a wood chipper. If Brian looked like that after their little evening out, Dom could probably make a pit bull run off whimpering.

Then Brian smiled and things suddenly snapped back into focus. Dom squinted against the dazzle.

“So what you’re saying is,” Dom rolled his reply around in his mouth, pushing it through the cotton. “Bugs isn’t afraid to explore his feminine side.”

“Yeah, man. Perfectly confident with his sexuality.”

“Mmmmmmmmmmmm,” Dom replied like Brian had just explained something really profound.

Brian opened his mouth as if to say something more and then seemed to get caught up in the complex plot of “A Wild Hare”. Dom lost the reins on his thoughts for some undisclosed period. When he came back to himself, he was embarrassed to note that he was still staring at Brian’s half-open mouth. He cleared his throat to cover it and then nearly choked on the coughing fit that resulted.

“Dude, do you want some water?” Brian had gotten up on his knees but was still wisely staying out of hurl range.

Dom shook his head and nearly tumbled off the couch as the room spun. “Nah, water will make me heave,” he finally managed and then stiffened. When had Brian become the guy he could say something like that to? Even Vince never got revelations like that.

It was weird. Being the big fish in the small pond, every eye that ever turned on Dom always seemed clouded with…something. For years now. Like they didn’t really see Dom, they saw Toretto. They saw a winner, a conquest, a rival, a meal ticket. The first time he’d stared Brian down, he hadn’t even been trying to intimidate him. Dom had just been trying to figure out why Brian’s look was different. Brian’s eyes were so…clear.

Brian hadn’t been intimidated, anyway.

Brian blinked and shrugged at Dom, turning back to the TV. Dom was grateful for Brian’s surfer detachment. Dom appreciated people who never repeated questions or asked dumb things like, “Are you sure?”

Dom stretched his arms out carefully, wary of upsetting the delicate balance that he had achieved. Finding out what he wanted to know without giving the game away was going to be a balancing act as well. “Shit. It’s been a while since I did something like that.”

Brian mumbled something.

“What?” Dom slouched down closer to Brian’s head.

“I said,” Brian enunciated. “You’re still really good at it.”

Dom raised his eyebrows in confusion. Damn it. One of the frustrating things about Brian’s impassivity was that it was really hard to tell when he was kidding. Having worked to cultivate stillness in himself, Dom was both pleased and irritated that Brian had also mastered it. Brian was going to make him work for his explanation.

“Where are those knuckleheads?” Dom asked casually.

Brian pointed with his chin. “Jesse’s over there.” Jesse was almost invisible on the floor beside the armchair. It looked like he had tried to climb up into the chair but had packed it in early. “Don’t worry, he’s on his stomach and I put the stereo speaker there so he can’t roll over.” Brian added reassuringly.

“Vince?”

Brian paused for a second, considering. “I think he’s passed out in the backyard somewhere. He might have left. I told him not to drive, but, you know, he doesn’t exactly…”

“…Prize your advice?” Dom couldn’t keep his lip from curling. Vince.

“Something like that.” Brian grinned again and Dom almost grinned back. Brian never took Vince’s attitude personally and never held Vince’s behavior against Dom. Pure class.

“Leon?”

“I gave him some money to go get some food. He left about an hour ago. I don’t think he’s going to be back anytime soon.”

“Why not?”

Brian wrinkled his nose, “Well, when he puked in the bushes on the way out it didn’t exactly inspire confidence.” Brian rolled his head back against the couch. “Think he may need to crash somewhere before he gets it together enough to bring us some food…’course, by then we might actually be ready to eat it.” He smiled.

“Optimistic.” Dom tried to be nonchalant while surreptitiously sniffing his shirt. Only faint smell of vomit. Well, that was one more piece of the puzzle. He felt bad…but he didn’t feel really bad. Obviously, he’d purged some of the poison. Embarrassing. But Brian wasn’t judging him harshly for it. And who else could judge him?

“You seen Mia?” Casual, casual.

Brian tore his eyes away from the Bugs and Daffy show long enough to mutter something that sounded like “said Seattle last.”

“Again in English?”

“Said she had a class.”

Dom blinked very slowly. “It’s Saturday.” Or he was in bigger trouble than he thought.

Brian explained like Dom was the stranger. “She has class on Saturday. Some biology thing. She wants to get a jump on next semester ‘cause she’s going to have to take Organic Chemistry and it’s a bitch. This way it’s just 3 hours a Saturday for eight weeks and next semester she only has to take 12 hours.”

Dom rubbed his face while he processed all this new information. What was infinitely more interesting than his sister’s academic prowess was Brian’s ability to pull facts out of thin air. How was it possible that this guy had insinuated himself so deeply into Dom’s tight-knit clan in a little over two weeks? He had a face that you wanted to tell things to, Dom considered. Those big blue eyes drinking it all in. Plus Brian didn’t just ramble on about himself like most people in this town; he actually listened to people. Dom had originally thought that Brian just wasn’t very smart and was learning as he went along. But he was revising his opinion. Brian was like that old beater with the 2 JZ engine. You peeled back the layers there was a surprise underneath.

“Mia say anything when she left?” Dom’s face still felt kind of numb and rubbery but blood was slowly starting to circulate again.

“Apart from calling us lazy, no-account punks?” Brian took it as his due that he was part of that tribe. “She wanted me to remind you that that Mazda’s supposed to be ready by Tuesday.”

“That’s a couple of hours, tops, if I can get the Mad Scientist to put sentences together later… so where’s…” Dom trailed off. Following his thoughts was like stumbling down a long, dim hallway. And he’d just put his hand on the knob of a door he didn’t want to open.

Brian’s face had gone suddenly tight and guarded; he had tilted his chin down onto his knees as if hiding his head could keep people from noticing him. Dom gusted a sigh wishing he could just explain to the kid, get that look off his face. Letty was one tough bitch and she’d been at her toughest and bitchiest last night. She knew all kinds of things to say to draw Dom to a knife’s edge of rage. But that was just part of their …complicated…relationship. It didn’t mean anything…

Last night, Letty’s iciest words made him feel hot, made everyone else turn away and put their blankest faces on. That’s what had turned their little excursion into an impromptu boy’s night out. Each of his guys had done their turn as court jester, competing to put the smile back on Dom’s face and getting progressively sillier and more obnoxious. Except for Brian, Dom mused. Brian had stayed cool and quiet as befitted the person who’d been the cause of the unrest. Letty could be as jealous and vindictive as Vince…problem was, she was a lot smarter than Vince…

Dom jerked that train of thought to a halt. He wasn’t going to think about _why_ he’d gotten drunker than he’d ever been last night. He was just going to find out how he’d filled those lost hours. Hopefully without anyone finding out that he’d been so out of control that he had _no memory_ of what he’d done in the last half of the evening.

“Thanks for driving, man,” Dom repressed the urge to ruffle Brian’s hair.

“Dude, it was worth it just to watch you guys get loose.”

Dom didn’t have to force a grin, “Yeah, we were definitely off the hook.” Had to get Brian talking. “What was your favorite part?”

Brian’s face was impassive even for him. Brian’s face was weirdly //consciously// impassive. And his eyes were nervous.

Dom was doing an internal inventory of the last thing he remembered. Problem was, it kept changing. If he tried to remember it all went blurry but some moments came back with a flash of clarity. He remembered stopping Vince from getting into a fight at the pool hall. Remembered Jesse feigning death at the strip club. Remembered Brian’s lips on a bottle in the blue light over the bar. He was so caught up in the flashes; it took a moment to realize that Brian was speaking.

“Of what? Last night? Dunno, man, what was your favorite moment?”

Sneaky Brian. “Mmmmm…apart from the lap dance? Honestly, it was when that stripper tweaked your nose.” That was actually the truth, insofar as he could remember. The expression on Brian’s face had made Dom laugh until his ribs hurt.

Brian was smiling and his eyes had lost that tense look. “Yeah, strippers like me. In kind of a weird, motherly way.”

Dom chuckled again. His headache was almost gone. “Yet another reason that you’re a good guy to have around. Hey, you know, I would have given Leon money if you’d woken me. ”

Brian rolled his eyes. “But you were soooooo cuuuuuuute.” He ducked as Dom took a half-hearted swing at him. “’Sides, I thought your new resolution was to only give money to women named Tiffani.”

Dom mimed astonishment, “What, you don’t think that’s a good plan?”

Brian had stood up and walked over to the picture window. “Nah, I think it’s a great plan. Tiffani’s a great gal.” He paused and looked out into the noon sunlight. “I can see why you married her.”

Dom’s wouldn’t have believed it possible but his mouth was suddenly even drier. He had to pound himself on the chest to knock a word free from the coughing fit that gripped him.  
Brian continued obliviously, “You know, I didn’t know those Latino wedding clinics downtown were 24 hour gigs? That was really handy, great that we didn’t have to drive to Vegas. Glad that Leon thought of it.” He leaned forward and lowered his voice to a companionable half-whisper. “I didn’t tell Mia this morning. You’ll probably want to get the photos developed before you tell her.”

“You are so totally shitting me.” Dom accused hopefully.

Brian waited for a long second before cracking up. “You so don’t remember a goddamn thing, do you? “

“Maybe I do, maybe I don’t” Dom was sullen. At least it was Brian. Brian didn’t seem to be much of a tease.

“You should have seen the look on your face. I almost had you. I knew you were lost to consciousness when you started babbling about how much you liked ‘Samurai Jack’.”

“I **do** like ‘Samurai Jack’”

“Actually, you **love** ‘Samurai Jack’. We’re driving back and everyone else has passed out in the backseat but you’re going on and on and on about the evil Aku.” Brian stopped and tilted his head to look Dom full in the face. “It’s cool. You should let yourself cut loose like that more often.”

In thrall to those words, Dom unthinkingly took a half-empty bottle of Corona off the coffee table and turned it up to his lips. The smell of beer was everywhere so it didn’t make him nauseous.

“I think that Leon pissed in that,” Brian deadpanned, looking out the window.

Since it was his turn to break the tension, Dom sprayed his ill-timed sip like a fountain. Brian had turned back from the window in time to catch the comedy but ended by getting most of the beer all over his shirt. They both laughed and Dom tossed the bottle from one hand to another like a hot potato. Brian tried to grab it from him and it became a game. Finally, Dom flung the bottle out the half-open window and used the expansive gesture to grab Brian’s shoulder and pull him into a one-armed embrace.

Brian felt good under the span of Dom’s arm but he smelled just awful. A mix of beer, liquor, sweat, cigarettes and…something. Dom made a show of tilting his nose into Brian’s shoulder, inhaling and then shivering in feigned disgust.

“Kid, you reek.”

“You haven’t exactly slapped on the Polo either.”

“Fair enough. I’ve got some shit upstairs that will probably fit you.”

Brian was still loose and easy in the circle of his arm. But he didn’t have a smartass comeback for Dom’s offer and that was a little…strange.

“C’mon,” Dom knocked his knuckles into Brian’s shoulder blade when the kid was inclined to hesitate. “Shower’ll make a new man of you.”

Brian let himself be pushed up the stairs. Wooziness attacked Dom again as he gained the upper hall and it was Brian’s turn to offer his arm and nudge him left toward his bedroom.

Once there, Dom jerked off his shirt and stuffed it in the pillowcase that did service as a hamper. Brian moved hesitantly to the solitary chair to take off his shoes and Dom opened his closet slowly to prevent anything falling on him.

“Where did you get that done?” Brian asked.

“Get what done?” Dom turned from the closet confused. Geez, he was **still** drunk. He never let himself get this plastered normally because he hated what it did to his thoughts, his reaction time. But Brian was embarrassed by his own innocuous question. It took Dom a while to interpret the gesture Brian was making.

“Oh this?” Dom smiled down at his belly button and stroked the little barbell with the edge of his thumb. “Venice, of course. A couple of years ago. Gotta keep with the tribe.”

“Doesn’t it itch? And like, catch on things?”

“Nah, not as much as you’d think.”

Brian’s gaze was determinedly level with Dom’s eyes…as if looking at the navel stud too closely made him uncomfortable. Dom could suddenly identify with large-breasted women. “No tattoos for you, huh?” Brian asked softly.

Dom snorted, “Vince has got enough tattoos for all of us. Give me your shit and I’ll go put it in the machine.” He turned back to the closet and dug in to find some sweatpants or pants he’d outgrown. When he turned back, Brian had peeled off his own sticky shirt.

He grinned at Brian’s back. “Looks like (what was her name?) …Destiny gave you something to remember.” Brian’s shoulder was faintly lavender, edged with little purple hyphens. Teeth marks. Geez, looked like the kid had let some stripper gnaw on his shoulder for a good half hour. For a second that same tight look passed over Brian’s face as he turned, a slight tension edging his features. Then he chuckled, “Don’t you use towels? Or do you just shake like a dog?”

By the time Dom had shuffled out to the linen closet and returned with a couple of towels, Brian had stripped down and disappeared into the bathroom. Dom tapped on the door lightly and was thrown slightly off balance when Brian yanked the door open. Brian grabbed the towels and retreated. Dom tapped on the door again and Brian opened the door again, sheepishly. Dom handed over the shampoo that he had swiped from Mia.

Dom’s laugh lasted until he had turned away from the closed door. Imagining what the soap he used would do to Brian's hair was pretty comical. He was still chuckling when he picked up Brian’s jeans to stuff into the bulging pillowcase.

And suddenly stopped because the sense of smell was the most evocative sense and something about the smell of Brian’s discarded clothing wanted to tear a hole in the shroud of blackness that covered his memory of the return home. Dom sat down on the side of the bed before his knees gave out.

Dom’s head was still a little cloudy but his eyes worked fine. The quick glance of Brian in the bathroom had something a little...off about it. Brian’s skin was much paler than anyone Dom had known since prison. Paler and showed bruises better. Bruises.

Bruises over Brian’s hipbone. Splayed like a carelessly dropped glove. Finger marks. Bruises over his shoulder with a broad seam of tooth marks.

Dom lay down on the bed to relieve the pressure from his brain. Instinctively he knew that the marks had been made at the same time and if you accepted that as fact that would mean…what exactly? Brian looked Dom in the eye; Dom would guess he stood a bit over six feet. The woman who did that to Brian would have to be unusually tall, even for Los Angeles. Sure, platform heels, why not? Would have to have an unusually wide mouth. Unusually strong, strong enough to leave bruises like that. Bruises but no scratch marks from long fingernails. Wasn’t it like a law that strippers had to have long fake nails? He rubbed his own fingertips together.

This was wrong, wrong, wrong. He needed to stop thinking about this right now. But his brain resisted all efforts to turn away. The marks on Brian’s hip were so clear, it was like Dom was seeing them now. _They faced the wrong way._ What did that mean?

It meant that the person who had done that to Brian had been standing behind him. Standing behind him, holding him still with one hand on his hip and teeth buried in the meat of his shoulder and the other hand doing…what? With a sinking feeling, Dom looked at his dirty laundry. Brian reeked of beer, liquor, sweat, cigarettes and come.

Dom’s eyes were still open but the corner of the dresser that he was staring at might as well have been on the moon. His mind was giving him a live feed, a vision that made sweat break out all over his body. He could see it happening, the gentle tussle of Brian trying to get Dom out of his shoes. _There were four bedrooms up here…how had Brian know which one was his_? Dom could feel the tickle of curly hair on his eyebrow. _How did Brian know that he didn’t have any tattoos?_  
Dom’s mouth was abruptly filled with the sense memory, the taste of firm, lightly salted skin. Brian had felt so full and sturdy in his arms and hands. _What the fuck happened here last night?_

Memory or fantasy? Live or Memorex?

One last test: Dom unbuttoned his own pants with trepidation. Winced as he realized that his boxers were sticking to him. He ripped them off like a Band-Aid, ripped his pants off like they were burning him. Stuffed them into the laundry like he could still hide the evidence. Jerked on his thickest coveralls like he could punish himself with the rough slide of canvas, shield Brian somehow from his unruly libido.

Dom hadn’t had the urge to punch himself in the face for quite a long time. He wanted to bang his head against the wall but some invisible thread was keeping him from it. He was missing some vital part of this puzzle. Something was off. Brian had corralled drunks all night, been teased by skanks, kept Jesse from choking on his own puke, gotten everyone home safe and then Dom had done something that all the evidence pointed to being both hurtful and humiliating. Or what?

Dom was suddenly struck numb. Brian was _**still here**_. Brian had stayed, didn’t seem hurt or scared. Brian seemed… _You should let yourself cut loose like that more often_.

That was the thought in Dom’s head and surely in his face when the shower stopped and Brian stepped back into the bedroom. Swathed in a towel, sluicing water out of his hair and he stopped dead at the sight of Dom’s face. It was all there.

It was a long moment before Dom could tilt his head to indicate the clothes he had laid out for Brian. An even longer moment before Brian leaned in to take them.

“You have fun last night, Brian?” Dom said softly, no hint of humor, hoping that Brian would read between the lines.

Brian paused for a second but it was only to lock their eyes together. “Yeah, I did.”

Dom didn’t smile. “We’ll have to do it again sometime.” He was glad he could blame the dizziness on a hangover.

Brian raised his eyebrows. “You think that’s a wise idea?”

This time Dom really did smile as he turned to duck into the shower, his best smile, just for Brian.

“Back to the past, Samurai Jack.”

 

End.

**Author's Note:**

> This story owes EVERYTHING to Kat. The idea came to me while I was pegged out on her floor, watching cartoons, drinking her Kool-Aid and trying not to hurl. Kat, this story is thanks for a lovely evening. And I’m sorry about your bathroom. Really.
> 
> The title is stolen from the Emmy nominated animated TV series by Genndy Tartakovsky.
> 
> The story also owes something to a conversation I had with a decidedly heterosexual guy about what it would really take to get two super-macho guys in the sack. He reminded me of the old joke:
> 
> Q: What’s the difference between a straight frat boy and a gay frat boy?
> 
> A: A six-pack.


End file.
